Malala Yousafzai

MALALA YOUSAFZAI

Blue ribbon

Daddy daddy daddy
Where’re you
I’ve lost my blue ribbon
I need one more please
Thus cry my adorable daughter, Dora, who will be one by the next full-
moon

Daddy daddy daddy
Where’re you
I’ve lost my blue ribbon
The same that you used to tie up my hair with
Won’t you help me look for it

O who will tell Dora
Her daddy now lay dead in a ditch
Dreaming of her angelic face, and of her kind honest mother’s maidenly
kiss

Like the kiss of mist on the pure, chaste maidenly lips of lily,
lotus, dahlia, daisy, daffodil, violets pink purple opalescent blue
green

Ivy-eyed-iris radiating unearthly iridescence ray of bliss by the bank
of the uncharted undiscovered moonlit rill

The moon-light-refracting petals of the budding blossoming roses, and
jasmine jovial fragrant that get intoxicated in their own stream
opiated consciousness

Like the strong surge of the waves by the more strong pull of the
tidal tail-less trail originating from the far far far away celestial
shell

Where the strings of sparkling twinkling stars adorn and decorate the
hem of the heavenly headdress

And the ways of the Milky-Way like Galaxies are being constantly
consistently, endlessly infinitely timelessly stretched, upstretched
geometrically inversely exponentially randomly accidentally evenly
proportionately upon This Canvas of Divine Theatrical Film

We the players are being continuously repetitiously being played
without knowing the beginning or end

While the Playwright keep on writing the same scenic sinning play
Making a little change now and then
Keeping the Plot same

Death and life
Life and death

Trial and tribulation
Love and hate

Hell and Heaven
Air wind water flame

Jealously, envy
Wealth, paucity
Class-color-systems

The sending of the poets and prophets

Suttees on sandalwood
Saints walking on the watery surface

The wonders that never cease
The nonsense that never seal

Away
Away away
O do please set me free
Set me free
Do not make me again and again

Let me be finished
Let me be extinguished
Let me be done with

No name
No God
No religion

No entity
No emptiness
No senses
No nothingness

O be done with me
I was never born
I was never dead

I never came
I never went

I was none
None I’m

Nor am I a part of your reality, dream,  or whatever, whoever,
whichever you may pretend or believe, think or may not think

I do not care
For I cannot sense, feel, think
I’m carefree
I’m xyz

The brandishing of the innocents as the uncultured, wicked, uneducated
as the puritanical  pilgrims pollute, pilfer, plunder the Indian Lands
Exterminate buffalos
And wipe out the native en masse

O I cannot see
I cannot think

O when will these farcical nonsensical play and pretension will end to
herald a new origin of blissful bliss

This continuous never ending conflict amongst the haves and the haves-
not, the kings, queens, peasants, and the priest-domineering whoredom
of the holy holistic wholesomeness hung up upside down down upon the
bottomless bottom of the topless toppling Universe

Space to space space spacing out the space of endless eyes

Visionary’s vision view the vicissitudes of the sky

A pailful of pale rain drip from the deep dark desire off the monsoon
night
As the maiden becomes more beautiful after the menstrual tide

The nightingale in the night reminiscences the romantic rhyme that the
knight lonely lovelorn wrote for his lady of the light

Fill up my empty cup with the wine of life

My virgin wedded-bride stare at my candlelight as the flame of love
gets bigger and bigger to embrace to enthrall her virginal flight to
the prayer-house of pleasure where the dolls and dogs decry and
delight touching the touchstone to measure the wetness of the orgasmic
ebb and rise

O my love bulbul
For who you cry
For what painful oblivious sight

Beauty melts in high-tide as the solar-swings and the lunar-rides ride
along the ethereal path of the star-studded-sky
Torching and flaring up the structures of all mosque, church, temple,
shrine

O my love bulbul
For who you cry
For who you sing the song of seven seas, seven sin, seven sunrise
O bulbul
My love bulbul
Two bulls and a bull
Buddha and the mule
Lotus in a room
Full of perfume
Ripples ripple in romantic roll
Glitter gold gyrating bold like the hip of maiden a-courting the
boneless bone

O bulbul
O bulbul
How thou play the harp harpooning the hole
Heaven shakes
Hell cannot hold
Pitcher of love
Broken avowed
Sultana’s shawl the silver satin soak with the juice of love
fulfilling thy soul

Hey bulbul
Hey bulbul
Have you ever heard the cry piteous pitiful, the dying beat and breath
of a butterfly beautiful
Wincing and flinching her broken wings below the broken bough of
weeping willow and sighing sycamore

Or have heard yet the labeling processes of the modern-day-society at
disarray uproar
Color-coded-culture
Class-cluttered-coal
Toilet-paper-torn-shit-on-ass-cotton-candy-comb

Human trafficking
Drug warfare
Arab Spring

Black widows
Cyber bullying
Amanda Todd
Assad killing
Cold cruel tomb

Matrimonial matriarchal monk
Free flow Ganga
Free fall

The call of the wild
The call of the call
Shipshape
Slip slop
Blip blob
Clip clop
Dig dog
Big bog
Seek sought
Teach taught
Meek mock
Drip drop
Lip lock
Love loch

Canonization of the rich
Crucifixion of the poor

The holy war
The holy water
Holy hallowed holly expressing indignation and jealousy at the
ponderous pensive pink hibiscus harvesting plot

Love bulbul, love bulbul
Darkness to darkness drunk
Sun shrunk
Moon duck
Colossus nuclear catastrophe engulfed the whole Earth
No more humans to humor or hunt
No more God to pray
No more Satan to charge
Only a charred burnt barren Earth limping and staggering around the
silly old fool sun

Love bulbul o love bulbul hear my song of life and death, and of love
and lust

For I were like you’re

Once in the month of monsoon fun was singing away my time in the
rhythm of innermost self-content-one

Suddenly the explosion occurred

Nuke race and run

Finally extinction ate away Earth

Love bulbul
Love bulbul

Please help me find the blue ribbon for my blue-eyed beautiful
daughter who by now would be one
If not the extinction of the Earth occurred

Come
Come
Come

Come to me tilting on the tip of twilight

Sticking your tongue out

Blossoming your cherry ripe sweet sublime

Aligning your curvaceous hip along the horizontal horizon of the
hypnotic Hellenic height

Baring thy blinding beauteous breasts upon the belief-bestrewn-beeches
of death and life

O come to me
O come to me as the volcanic erupting fiery wet wild

Come to tempt me, tame me, tease me, test me, taste me timelessly tryst

In you I shall sow the seeds of life

You in me shall be maturing and nurturing the outburst, the
spontaneity of my poetic surprise!

Daddy daddy daddy
Where are you
I have lost my blue ribbon
I need one more
Will you please come help me look for it now
Thus cry my blue-eyed baby

They sent us to fight a war that has no friends, foes, or enemies

We’ve become the victims of religions and politics

They ambush us dead in the night with grenades, gunpowder, and
biological bombs chemical kind

We get butchered, suffocated like ants and mice

O bring back our troops home
Dig no more graves or tombs

Do not let Dora grow up without her father
Do not let little Johnny grow up without his mother
Do not make our daughters widows anymore

Yet the House and Senate passes one more bill to send more troops to
the foreign soil where they treat us all as the evil wicked heathen
ghosts

The generals laugh, drink, and smoke
While we get blown up with IEDs, bombs, and shells on the grounds

The priests and politicians pretend and shed crocodile tears as they
bring our dead bodies to bury in the honorable graves, lowering the
Flag, and singing the National Anthem

They decorate us with posthumous medals
And bestow on our mothers, sisters, wives, sons, daughters the petals
of rose

Then the next month my dear wife gets my severance check from the
military post that amounts to 1164

They also sent her a medal in gilted gold that has the engraving on it
as on my dented burnt dog tag of strange stone

The writing on the dog says,
Corporal Ujjol Kamal
Purple Hearts
Died with honor
Saving the hearts of his fellow officers and soldiers in a treacherous
ravine in Afghanistan

O my pretty wife cannot fight back the cascading tears on her big
beautiful eyes

She feels as if her hurting hearts sank to the innermost core

And her feet suddenly give in to the rotating floor

A numbness odd and strange

A void, an emptiness surrounds her from all corners, curves, and angles

She remembers the last time she talked to Ujjol she wasn’t that
pleasant to talk to or listen to any ways as far as she could
recollect or recall

She was very insisting on him adamantly  to come back home

Dora was always crying for him

And she missed him every day, every night more and more

She couldn’t concentrate
She couldn’t sleep

Large black bags of sleeplessness formed underneath her eyes

She mostly cried for him at night

She missed him holding her lovingly tenderly and tight

Kissing her so sweetly and gently as the flight of feather floating
silently in the easy breeze of the spring wind

However, he said that he would be soon finishing his tour of duty
After that he would never sign up to fight to kill for any warring
political machine

Alas! He was so close to homecoming

Now she sees him all medicated, stitched, sewed, sutured and frozen in
a cheap half-wood, half-steel coffin

A thin fabric of camphor-smelling-death covered him from chin to toe

O how calm and serene he looks

Like a divine angel resting beside his flesh and bone

She cannot control her emotion anymore

She breaks down all hysterical and tearful

Little Dora call her daddy to wake up and play with her in the green
grass field and open meadow

The ways that her daddy would pick her up and make her fly in the mid-
air of the soft subtle twilight-show

Daddy daddy daddy
Dora entreat for her daddy to wake up and speak and swing her up in
the midair of suspended time that will never grow weary of her

Alas! My dear child

Daddy is no more to play with thee

He’s gone
He’s dead

But he will watch you, love you from his home
Situated between the hills where the Heaven meets the Throne of God

After the funeral rite, Sarah went home
She was very tired
She couldn’t move

She took sleepy Dora in her arms and put her to sleep on her bed that
offered the open view beyond the forest of pine, sycamore, and conifer
row after row

Ujjol used to love this room, from where he would often watch the sun
go down and the full-blown romantic moon would sway and swing by our
bedside mahogany window

Sarah moved across the door

Her eyes suddenly caught sight of the Manila envelope that had
military seal on its frontal fold, and a placard, and a medal too that
stood face-down beside the government paid postage for the big fake show

She burnt the check, and buried the medal of honor with the tag of dog
underneath the dry moist earth of the apple and orange orchard

Dora is too little to grasp what’s going on
She feels the tear-drops falling on her little doll-like form from her
inconsolable mother’s sob
She doesn’t know what’s wrong
Or why her dear mama crying like a one year old

Come next morning they move more soldiers toward the war-torn hills,
deserts, jungles, and shores

Daddy daddy daddy
The little girl cries

She looks for me left and right

She cannot find her blue ribbon bright

Her mother picks her up and tells her her daddy is never coming back
with her blue ribbon bright

The mother sobs, and the baby cries

The military tanks shook the sky as the shells fell like the fiery
rain out of the hellbound hellish sky

Daddy daddy daddy
Please bring me back my blue ribbon bright
I’ve to tie up my hair the way you taught me so many times, toying the
blue ribbon bright

Desert sun o desert sun I’ve come so far to see you burn

Burn burn burn

Your oasis glitter as pearl

The heat wave of the desert play with the leaves of the tall firm date
and palms

O desert dunes stretch far far far
Like the waves upon oceans the dunes draw the unusual unknown dreamy
patterns

The camel herds weary-worn and more tired of thirst spread their
hooved-feet to rest beneath the desert sun

Some cacti here and there stand like some strange creatures
Dotted along nowhere upon the pathless dry dreary desert

Methinks if tis the same desert below the same sinning scorching sun
that witnessed once the fall and rise of many a prophets, princes,
Bedouin girls

Whose flesh and bones with all of their love lust and materialistic
goals have become now the sheer emptiness of the dry desert bowls; and
their souls alone keep wandering aimless shameless shapeless unto the
woebegone desert dunes

O the desert becomes so freezing and cold once the sun goes down
As if the spirits of the North Pole have come to meditate beneath the
orange brown golden moon

Desert sun o desert sun I’ve come away so far just to see you burn
burn burn

Below the sun
Above the sun

Fomenting sin
Foraging fun

Lowly low
Highly Hun

Cocaine and petrol
Computer
Opium

The smoking dragon is snorting the sun

The nurses wearing skirts short and blouses without brassiere

The nuns in the nunnery run run run

Seeing the sons and daughters of the sun are making love below the altar

The religions of rosary drop off their white satin shirts as they run
and race to keep wet their lust

The same love
The same lust
That they dream and experience while they steal to the burn to re-read
their rosary with the fruit-seller-men, and the farmer-boys who have
recently tasted the taste of them fun-filled-fern

Desert sun
Desert sun
Run run run
Burn burn burn

The Gypsy-girl placing her cold ominous fingers on the surface of the
crystal-ball inside the more ominous tent made out of camel skin and
camel bone

Makes she premonition-besieged augury as the incense slowly swirl up
to burn in the rhythm of the time that been long gone and lost below
the burning breeze of the desert dawn

O my blue ribbon
My blue ribbon
Wake up
Walk up

Show thouself to the happiness of the blue-eyed little girl

She’s as innocent as the desert sun

She sings to herself a tune that never been heard

Oblivious
Unaware
My little girl plays with the bright blue ribbon of sun

Desert sun
Desert sun

Nus tresed
Opposite run
Nun to nun says run run run
Make use of thy virginity while still the sun burns

Do not die
Not having sit with and dined with the magical love wand of Moses and
the 12 Disciples of the aged wise desert sun

Blue ribbon
Blue ribbon
Ribbon blue bright

The cowardly, the bastardly Talibans shot my little princess Malala
Yousufzai in Pakistan

Her fault was that she spoke too freely, and she said every girl has
the right to go to a school, and laugh and walk free

Malala is now fighting for her life in an ICU in Pakistan, Rawalpindi

My hearts cry
And my soul sobs at the pain and sufferings of this little princess of
the time-conquering and encapsulated art, science, faith, fate, history

The daughter of the Swat Valley

A heavenly fairy

A wondrous wonderful soul who liked and loved everything fair and
beautiful of the Mother Planet Earth

My dearest adorable girl I hope you get better before long and get on
your feet

And tell yourself to the twisted Talibans that God have given you
courage to come back again to continue on your journey to the
righteous paths of free will

O the valleys, the hills, the rills, the sweet mysterious mystique
mountainous streams all cry and weep for you Malala, my sweet
adorable nymph

The lotus, the lily in the melancholia-mingled-moonlit-pond of the
Swat Valley lay all painful and praying for Malala to come back and
play with them innocent fresh petals of faith-fate-poetic

I hope the Talibans rot in Hell
And you my fairy fulfill my wish to be healthy, sweet, and free free
free

Blue ribbon
Blue ribbon

What pain immeasurable pain thee

What lonely shore make you more sorrowful, lonely

And what mystery infinite beguile and overwhelm thee

The sacred celestial stars with secrets enigmatic that are twinkling
and sparkling far far far above the blue wavy seas

And the seas that are flowing forever keeping the balance between the
humans and beasts, animals and trees, fish and algae

O God the heinous evil wicked Talibans shot Malala Yousufzai while she
was coming back from her school in Swat Valley

O Dear God
What act of violence
What act of atrocious atrocity
She is only fourteen
A mere child to be playing, studying, laughing, smiling

O I wonder if these twisted psychopaths Taliban-creatures have
themselves mothers, wives, sisters, daughters and they would shoot
them too if they dared to speak out against the sin and evil that they
die to enforce and implement without knowing the true meanings of
religion that are written so beautifully and insightfully on The Holy
Book for all Humanity

If I had the powers and authority I would surely have exterminated and
wiped out all the Al-Qaeda and the Talibans from the face of Earth for
all eternity

So that my wives, mothers, sisters, daughters, and the other Malalas
would never have to go through the tunnels of all these manmade
unjustifiable fear, intimidation, stigma, wrongful convictions, rape,
massacre, blames, floggings, honor killings that are continuously
unfolding in these God-forsaken roguishly controlled Taliban-valleys,
and in other parts of our societies

Society
Sincerely I
Asking of you
What it is why
And for what means ends
Do you thus continue to control
The calling class color with such fuss
Feigning faking the true faith fate of fun
As the fine fern unfurl the nun’s crimson love-bud
To make love fairly below the bough of the golden-desert-sun
And the silent-sleeping golden dragon of fire shall wake up
Making us all pure sanctified by his curative fire-ball
O the bastardly Talibans shot princess Malala
Sky weeps sadly remembering her part
Life-lovely she played with love
Yet they shot her
Pray for you
Love you
Malala

Blue ribbon blue ribbon pray for the sweet innocent Malala
The poor child got shot by the perverted Talibans
She now lay on a bed fighting death
O dear God please make her well
She is the symbol of innocence
She’s fresh as a rose-lip
As tender as tulip
Fine as faith
Dear child
Wait
Wait
Be well
We all pray
For you be saved
For you to get well
And see the ray of sun-ray
Coming through the pores of hope happiness
As the light heavenly lands gently upon minarets
To melt the callous cold hearts-souls of the deviant-misled
Blue ribbon blue ribbon pray for the sweet muse-angel Malala

Blue ribbon
Bulbul
O let me rest a while
I’m too tired to try thy vain twists turns tales

I’ve no more tears to shed

Or to be felt sad or happy for the senseless doings of your realm

The more I think
The more I blame

Folly and mockery
Flaws faults flames

The late-night rain falls in pain intense
Unearthing and soaking the dry diseased cells of the earthen mud and
clay
Whereof oneday the sleepy spirits of life shall be coming out to grow
and shed the shades of comfort and happiness
Generously
Richly
Upon the struggling tired foraging earthlings of the progeny of Heaven-
banished Eve and Adam
Thus how it goes as far as I know that’s been written out unto the
blank sheets of scriptures for ages for all you friends or foes,
believers, unbelievers, priests, poets, padres, prostitutes, politicians

The dreamers
The revelers
The saints, the sages, the seers
Don’t include me
For I’m not on Earth!

Desert sun
Desert sun

Burn burn burn

Clean all sin
Heal all burn by applying thy all-curing fiery balm around the areola
of the wounded wolf-one-thousand-one

Solitude
Somber sun
Silent desert dream
Finely fresh green grass
Flowing through her dry dust
Whispering murmur of the lost Ark
Lying beneath the mirage of sunken earth
Where the blue ribbon of luck remembers love
Lonely alone stuck between the solid beds of fallen-stars
O my blue-ribbon luck whereof thy originated to deceive divert
Dreaming of the dry dreary dreamy desert under desert sun
Stars surreal that smile and sparkle denying sandy fun
The dew-drops that never formed off cacti’s frond
Nor subtle surface of roses rebuke recall
Silent invasion of the wiggly worms
Stealthily steal in her frock
Pearly love dew drops
Her lips lovelorn
Dust desires
Dawn

Weeping in the secret sacred sacrosanct sand of desert storm
The footprints of Mohamet Buddha and Jesus still halt
Pilgrimages of the pilgrims stupefied in desert storm
Ominous cylinders of dust-dirt diminish the marks
Infinite dead religions hiding hibernating dusk
Nude naked lucid singularity unmask
Mysterious mystery of mask
Please don’t mention
Nor ask
Shut
Desert
Look up
Shiny star dust
Falling from celestial cup
Like tender lily lotus jovial
Bathing inside the beauty of sun
And the season of harvest has come
To bring back happiness to the farmer’s daughter
And farmer’s son by painting desert sun pink purple
Prostituting the peacocks and peahens by the pack of terns

Daddy daddy daddy
Where’re you
I’ve lost my blue ribbon
I need one more please
Thus cry my adorable daughter, Dora, who will be one by the next full-
moon

Daddy daddy daddy
Where’re you
I’ve lost my blue ribbon
The same that you used to tie up my hair with
Won’t you help me look for it

(Visited 25 times, 1 visits today)

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *